I still remember my first doctor visit. I was 12, in seventh grade, in the neurology clinic at Children’s Hospital. I was that typical awkward preteen. The first words out of my doctors’ mouth was not, “how can I help you today?”, but “it's her hormones changing, she’s young, give it a few weeks, it’ll just go away.” For as long as I can remember I’ve been sick. When I say sick people think, oh she has a cold get away, you’re going to get me sick. Unfortunately, no. I just kind of laugh and say it’s not the kind of sickness they can get. The puzzled looks always follow that. The explanation is too long, people don’t care, they think it’s my attempt at a pity party. That’s where the anxiety and depression play their part. If you’ve never had a serious illness take over your life, then I would understand the confusion when I tell people, I don’t work much, I can’t go to school, I’m not a normal teenager, I don’t drink, I don’t go to parties. Lazy. That’s the word I’ve heard countless times that still gets under my skin. The thing about my illness is chronic fatigue, headaches, upset stomach, brain fog, among countless other symptoms. Take some Tylenol, man do I wish I could take one Tylenol and feel all better, I envy people that can do that, but me? No, I’ll need a Tramadol, Ativan, Extra Strength Tylenol. Besides the people outside of close family and friends, I’ve only been viewed as lazy, poor girl. I’m still a human being, I am not a fragile antique vase. I still like to be invited places and taken on dates and going to work, I just cant necessarily do that all the time. Circling back to how my doctors made me feel like I was crazy my entire teenage life, I remember March 15, 2013. Only a few days after my 16th birthday, it was a Friday morning, my doctor called me and explained to my father how I had an abnormality on my brain scan and that I should see a brain surgeon right away. It all happened so quickly, I was a newly 16-year-old girl trying to figure out life, when all of a sudden, everyone finally realized I wasn’t crazy, I was sick and no one could say it was all in my head. (no pun intended). A pituitary adenoma is a non-cancerous tumor that does not spread beyond the skull. I had a brain tumor, at 16. I was relieved and terrified, sad but happy, emotionless but angry. I was confused why God had thrown this giant curve ball my way. After it sank in, I decided that God did this to me because he knew that once the tumor was gone, I would no longer have a headache and I would finally be back to a normal teenage girl again. Once more, that was not the case. Apparently, when you have such major trauma happen to your body, sometimes like brain surgery, you can get a syndrome called POTS, Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome, a multitude of symptoms all bundled together that cannot be fixed, you may grow out of it, but you might not. That’s when I got angry at God and refused to let him back into my life. I thought that I had done everything right, I took care of my dad when he had cancer twice, I was there for my friends when they needed me. I just didn’t understand why this would happen to me. For the longest time, I blamed myself for being sick, I must’ve done something to deserve this, but I have finally come to realize that God gives the toughest battles to those who can overcome it. I’m strong, I’m a fighter.